


Choices (The Hinges of Destiny)

by Jennistar



Series: Like Calls To Like [2]
Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3283016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennistar/pseuds/Jennistar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of AU where Telemon plays a longer game and actually marries Ariadne. He's the enemy of course, but like calls to like and there is no denying he and a heart-broken Pythagoras have more in common than they realise...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Once

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow on fic from my previous one-shot 'Like Calls to Like'. So I totally created the Pythagoras/Telemon pairing and now it won't leave me alone....  
> This chapter isn't particularly smutty, but it will probably get more so as the story goes on. Also there will be swearing in later chapters, and continuous discussion of murder.  
> There will be more Jason/Pythagoras as the story continues!

The day after Jason finds out about Ariadne's betrothal is truly the most miserable of all. Even the weather is downcast and the streets are quiet, as if somehow Jason's mood affects the entirety of the city. The man in question sits and refuses to eat, Hercules sits and eats too much and Pythagoras idles at his desk, staring down at his blank parchment for inspiration that won't come. He feels like his mind has dried up, sapped by Jason's misery.

Pythagoras has never really known what it is to love someone. Not as thoroughly as Jason does for Ariadne. The closest he's ever got to is Jason himself, but unrequited love is obviously very different from requited love that all the same can never be. The only theory Pythagoras has on the matter is that unrequited love involves only one person being miserable whereas requited love that can never be involves both parties being miserable. And then it makes each person even more miserable when they think about the other miserable person. All in all, Pythagoras decides, love is a messy and complicated business and if the worst he gets is to feel unrequited desire for his often shirtless house-mate...well, that's bearable.

That's what he keeps telling himself anyway.

“Thing is,” Hercules mutters – and he's been drinking steadily all day, so he's bound to talk complete nonsense at this juncture – “Thing is, Jason, you and I are have the same problem.”

Jason doesn't even look up at this. He stares fixedly at his hands as he has done for most of the day.

“You know,” Hercules persists, “You can't have Ariadne, I can't have Medusa. Same thing. You love them and you can't have them. You – you _see_ them, but you can't _touch_ them. Everyday just looking at 'em and wanting their arms around you, an' you can't have it – ”

Something inside Pythagoras twinges painfully at Hercules's words. He glances outside – the sun went down an hour ago and the empty streets are getting dark. “I'm going for a walk,” he says out loud, and stands up.

Neither man reacts to his words. He leaves them in silence.

Maybe unrequited love and requited love that can never be are the same things after all.

* * *

 

He wanders aimlessly for hours, until it starts getting cold and he turns where he is and starts to make his way back home. He's not entirely sure where he is when he hears a voice say, “And here we are again.”

Pythagoras pauses, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. He knows that voice.

He turns and sure enough there is Telemon again, standing in the same place, leaning on the same pillar outside the same tavern, just as he had been the night before.

“You really expect me to believe you're not spying on me?” Telemon says. He grins his shark grin, causing a shiver to run up Pythagoras's spine. There is a cup of wine in his hand and his eyes have a predatory glint to them.

“I often walk here,” Pythagoras forces himself to reply calmly. Something inside him tells him to run, but he can't seem to get his legs to obey.

“Of course,” Telemon retorts, clearly unconvinced. He takes a swig of his wine and Pythagoras knows he should walk away, but instead he finds himself speaking, snarling the words out in a way that is totally unlike him.

“Shouldn't you be with your betrothed?”

“Shouldn't you be with your pining lover?” Telemon instantly counters. “Oh wait, sorry, I mean _friend._ Or is he your lover now? Did you take advantage of his misery to get into his bed? Did you 'comfort' him?”

Pythagoras feels his hands clench themselves into fists. “I'm not capable of such a thing.”

“Then you missed your chance.” Telemon drains his wine. “And I know exactly what you're capable of, remember? Messing around with some foolish boy's feelings is nothing compared to cold-blooded murder.”

Pythagoras's hands won't unclench. His heart is pounding with fury and suddenly he wants nothing more than to pound his fists into Telemon's face. Jason's face flickers to the forefront of his mind, drawn with misery, woeful eyes fixed to pale hands. Telemon caused that misery, Telemon caused all of this.

The look on Pythagoras's face must be terrible, but Telemon simply grins at it. “Come and have a drink,” he invites, nodding his head towards the tavern. “If you're going to spy on me, we may as well do it civilly.”

Pythagoras feels himself frown. “What exactly are you planning to do to our Queen?”

Telemon, already turning to go into the tavern, glances over his shoulder. His bared teeth flicker in the candlelight. “If you come inside, you might find out,” he replies.

He walks inside. Pythagoras thinks about going back to the house, but the thought of having to face a pair of pining friends puts him off almost instantly. And perhaps he can get something out of Telemon after all.

He steps into the tavern.

* * *

It's loud and busy in the tavern, and Pythagoras can see why Telemon would come here. No one would notice a prince in this crowd, especially when he draws a hood over his face. It's so packed that even Ariadne could go around unnoticed.

He finds a small table near a wall and within moments Telemon tracks him down with two wines in his hands. Pythagoras takes his, peering inside it suspiciously. Telemon tuts. “Relax, it's not poisoned.”

Pythagoras says nothing. Telemon sighs, takes Pythagoras's wine and pours some of it into his own cup, then drinks heavily from it. “See?”

Pythagoras sniffs the drink. It smells like wine. He takes a sip. The flavour is strong and fruity, but it tastes right. He glances up and notices Telemon watching him with calculating eyes. “Good,” he says. He settles his chair closer to the table, leans across it so they are suddenly very close. Pythagoras should move back, but he finds he doesn't want to. He hasn't been the subject of such interest for a very long time.

“Now,” Telemon says, “Tell me who you murdered.”

Pythagoras's heart clenches at the unexpected question. He could still leave, there is still time. But instead of standing up and walking out, he hears himself say, “My father.” And then, before he knows it, he's telling Telemon the whole story – about his suffering mother, his drunken father, his angry little brother. When he mentions that the murder was an accident, Telemon waves a hand as if he is brushing aside something insignificant.

“Just tell me this,” he says. “Answer me this one question. Were you glad he died?”

Pythagoras opens his mouth to answer with an outraged no. But the word won't come out. He remembers how free his mother was after the accident, how much happier their little household was. He regrets killing his father, of course he does...but he doesn't regret that fact that died. And he has never realised this until now.

He stares at Telemon. Telemon grins his shark grin. “Do you want to know about my first murder?” he asks.

“Not particularly,” Pythagoras retorts, but Telemon tells him anyway.

“I was eighteen and I'd just been imprisoned in the salt mines of Hydra. There was a man there, a man who had killed, a man who hated royalty and all it stood for. I knew he was going to kill me simply because I was a prince, so one night I got up when everyone else was sleeping and killed him first. He was so drunk, he barely made a sound. I don't think he even knew what was happening.”

He tells the story simply and clearly, entirely unashamed of his deed, and Pythagoras should feel appalled at this but there is something inside him that understands and calls back to Telemon in answer.

He finds himself echoing Telemon's question. “Were you glad he died?”

A new smile - a cold spread of lips rising up to meet blackly glittering eyes - stretches across Telemon's face. Suddenly his hand is brushing Pythagoras's wrist, fingers trailing down his skin. “Let's go upstairs,” he says. “They rent rooms nightly here.”

Time to go, Pythagoras's instincts scream. Time to leave now.  _Now._ But the rest of him doesn't seem to be listening. Telemon's fingers pause on his pulse and Pythagoras can feel his heart beating against Telemon's touch. It should be unpleasant, but its not.

“No,” he hears himself say distantly. “Of course I'm not going to – ”

“You can scream any name you like,” Telemon says. “And believe me, I'll make you scream. If you want me to. I can do anything you want me to.”

Pythagoras's heart is pounding again, and there's still a bit of hatred in it but there's also something else as well. “Why me?” he says. He is under no illusions about Telemon's attractiveness, or about his own lack of the same. Telemon is a tall, dark warrior and Pythagoras is pale and skinny and weak. Telemon could have anyone.

Telemon leans forward, so close that their noses are almost brushing. Pythagoras can feel the warmth of his breath on his lips when he speaks. “Because you're singularly the most interesting person I've met since I came to Atlantis. All the others – Jason, Ariadne, even your stupid friend Hercules – they're all so  _predictable._ They're exactly what they should be – Jason's the hero, Ariadne's the queen, Hercules is the fool. But you – you're  _smart_ . You're smart and frustrated and you want to do something dark and dangerous, just like I do. Don't you?”

Pythagoras's hands are in fists again, but this time only to stop himself grabbing at Telemon. His head is whirling and not because of the wine. Suddenly the entire world is sharper, more in focus. It's all been a bit blurred and fuzzy, these last few days.

“Let's go upstairs,” Telemon says again. This close, Pythagoras can almost see his own reflection in the black pools that are his eyes. 

“All right,” he answers.

* * *

The little room is hot and claustrophobic and everything is too loud, but when Telemon closes the door and immediately reaches for Pythagoras's face, drawing their mouths together, Pythagoras forgets about everything but what he's feeling at that exact moment.

* * *

He eventually gets home just after dawn, his legs still shaking. Hercules is passed out at the table, surrounded by empty wine bottles, but Jason is awake. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, still staring at his hands, and he looks up when Pythagoras enters.

“Where have you been?” he asks, voice thick with confusion and tiredness.

Pythagoras stalls. He suddenly has no words. The memory of Telemon gripping hold of his naked waist, pulling him closer, revisits him with unnerving vividness. “Thinking,” he says. It's not really an answer, but apparently it's good enough for Jason, who goes back to staring at his hands.

Pythagoras suddenly feels dirty. The house is too quiet, everyone is too thoughtful, everything is too real. “I'm going to the baths,” he says and immediately flees again.

* * *

He lies in the scalding water, away from the other men bathing that early in the day, and looks up at the ceiling in peace.

Just once, he thinks. He can allow himself just once. But he will never do it again.

No one needs to know. It was just once.


	2. Heatwave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heatwave occurs and Pythagoras realises something terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some swearing and things getting a little more smutty...Some more Jason/Pythagoras this time!

_Just once, he thinks. He can allow himself just once. But he will never do it again._

_No one needs to know. It was just once._

* * *

Life continues. The three of them take on small guarding jobs for various citizens of Atlantis and bigger spying jobs for Ariadne, with the result that for once they are not completely strapped for cash. Hercules continues to drink most of it away, of course, but that's to be expected. Bickering with Hercules about money feels just like the old days and Pythagoras almost welcomes it.

But even Hercules stealing money for wine doesn't mean things aren't changing. Telemon and Ariadne's wedding plans continue apace and every time they see Ariadne, Pythagoras can practically hear Jason's heart break a little more. He tries not to show it in front of his friends, wanting them not to worry, but Pythagoras can tell. He's attuned to everything Jason does and says, of course he can tell. Jason forgets sentences halfway through speaking them, he stands in the middle of the room and stares at nothing, he walks the flat at night and Pythagoras can hear the floorboards creaking as he paces, and feels thoroughly glad that he's never felt a love as painful as Jason feels right now.

Pythagoras himself tries everything he can to be the same as he was before that ridiculous, unforgettable night. He doesn't take any more walks in the evening, and he goes nowhere near the tavern. Every time they have a meeting with Ariadne and Telemon is also there, Pythagoras doesn't look at him. That doesn't mean he can't feel Telemon's eyes on him, though. And it doesn't mean he doesn't sometimes have dreams about a shark grin or fingers digging into his waist as he's pulled closer...

But for a while everything is bearable. Everything is stressful and tense, but it's bearable. Then one night Atlantis gets trapped in a heatwave.

* * *

 

It's so  _hot._ Pythagoras gives up and retires in the afternoon when the sun actually boils the ink in his ink-pot, but he wakes later in the evening covered in sweat and practically gasping for relief. He sits up, discarding the thin cover he had over him, and stumbles blearily into the living area. There is silence from Hercules's room – the man is well known for sleeping through heat, cold and everything else besides – but there are grumpy noises coming from Jason's corner.

“It's so _hot_ ,” he whines when Pythagoras makes his appearance. “I thought it was meant to be cold in the desert at night.”

“Not during a heatwave,” Pythagoras replies tiredly, marvelling once more at Jason's ignorance of some things. He reaches for the water jug. “Water?”

He gets a grunt by way of reply, so pours two cups. The water is warm and hardly refreshing, but Pythagoras gulps some of it down anyway. When he glances round, he sees Jason is leaning out of the window, desperate for air. He's not wearing a shirt and the moon is full tonight, so his entire top half is bathed in moonlight.

Pythagoras feels his skin start to itch.

He forces himself to ignore it and carries the water to Jason. They lean out of the window together – Jason stares out at Atlantis and Pythagoras stares at Jason. He tries not to focus on the curls of hair at the back of Jason's head sticking to his skin, or wonder what would happen if he ran his tongue over the bead of sweat trickling down his neck. Jason's face is flushed, evident even in the moonlight, and his eyes are dark with a combination of exhaustion and heat. It the moonlight, his skin is almost glowing, like he's a god.

Suddenly Pythagoras has never wanted anyone more than he wants Jason right now.

Jason sips from his cup and smiles over at Pythagoras. His lips are wet from the water and Pythagoras has to force his face into a more neutral expression.

“This is where we first met,” Jason says.

It takes a moment for Pythagoras to gather what Jason is talking about – that is how much Jason has fogged up his mind in that moment. Then he glances down at the balcony and remembers Jason falling, Pythagoras catching him, the weight of a stranger suddenly pressing him into the floorboards. “Oh.” He smiles despite himself. “Yes, it was. Definitely the most surprising way of meeting someone I've ever experienced.”

“It was pretty lucky that I landed on your roof, considering,” Jason says. “Imagine if I'd landed somewhere else.”

“It doesn't bear thinking about.” And it really doesn't. A world without Jason in it is, for Pythagoras, absolutely unthinkable. Jason has caused him a lot of problems, but Pythagoras would cheerfully deal with it and more for his presence in his life. To lose him now would be...

He glances up at Jason, eyes dark, mouth wet, body radiant with moonlight, and it's like a torch being lit in his mind. He feels himself moving closer, suddenly desperate to close the gap between them, to just give up all resistance and just – just – but he can't because Jason loves Ariadne, Jason loves Ariadne and it doesn't matter whether Pythagoras loves him –

Loves him? Loves him, Pythagoras doesn't love him – it must be the heat, the closeness – but to just lean in, to just taste him, _just once_ a dark voice in his head hisses –

He forces himself to pull back, marshalling all the willpower he has. “I have to go,” he says. He sounds rattled.

Jason blinks. “Go? Where?”

“I – ” Where indeed? But there's only one place, really. “I need to go for a walk.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but Pythagoras has already pulled away from the window, from their closeness, slamming his cup down on the table and making a hasty exit.

* * *

This time he is under no illusions – he makes his way directly to the tavern. Telemon isn't standing outside, but why would he be? Pythagoras hasn't been here for weeks.

He opens the door to the tavern. It's as busy as it was before, the windows open to release the heat, and by the bar, talking to the barman, is Telemon.

He notices Pythagoras when Pythagoras is about halfway across the room, and orders a wine for him, handing it over when Pythagoras gets to him. Pythagoras – the heat pulling his skin tight and making him breathless – drains the cup in seconds, then takes hold of Telemon's wrist and leads them both upstairs without a word.

The room is still hot and close, and it only becomes hotter and closer when they divest themselves of their clothes and their naked bodies press together, but Pythagoras ignores this. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth to Telemon's, and he clutches at his forearms and pretends he's holding onto someone else entirely.

* * *

It's too hot to sleep afterwards, so they throw open all the windows and lie on the small bed, gasping in the fresh air. Telemon has an arm under Pythagoras's head and the intimacy should make Pythagoras feel uncomfortable but it doesn't. Perhaps he's too fucked out to care.

“Are you really going to marry her?” he asks.

“Who?” Telemon's voice is thick with tiredness and Pythagoras allows himself a small stab of victory that he did that to his enemy.

“The Queen,” he says. “Or will you murder her before then?”

“No, of course I'll marry her.” Telemon is instantly more awake, reminding Pythagoras that it'll be difficult to get much out of him, no matter what state he's in. “I'll be King of Atlantis. That's all part of the plan.”

“So there is a plan.”

Telemon laughs, his chest heaving with the sound. He turns his face to Pythagoras, plants a half-kiss, half-bite to his neck that makes Pythagoras shudder. “Of course there's a plan,” he murmurs into Pythagoras's neck. “I always have a plan. As do you.”

Pythagoras gasps and stretches his neck. “Right now my plan is to get some more of that,” he breathes, and Telemon grins into his skin and obeys.

After a while, the kisses transfer from Pythagoras's neck to his lips and soon they're breathing into each other's mouths, pressed against each other. “So,” Telemon says into Pythagoras's mouth as he moans and shifts against him, “Will I have to wait weeks for another visit from you?”

Pythagoras captures Telemon's mouth into a searing kiss that has both of them groaning. “No,” he says, and he means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews and kudos! This is turning out to be really quite a long fic, so settle in because it's going to be a long ride! (innuendo totally meant)


	3. Progressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pythagoras continues down his path and Hercules figures something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, it means a lot to me. Keep them coming!  
> A bit more smut in this chapter, though nothing too explicit. Same with the swearing.  
> Enjoy!

_“So,” Telemon says into Pythagoras's mouth as he moans and shifts against him, “Will I have to wait weeks for another visit from you?”_

_Pythagoras captures Telemon's mouth into a searing kiss that has both of them groaning. “No,” he says, and he means it._

* * *

For the next few months, Pythagoras falls into some sort of twisted routine that he tries not to think too much about. He lives his life just like normal, following Jason and Hercules on insane adventures and trying to keep them all from dying whilst also trying to propose a new theorem on those days when they're not escaping death, but at the end of every week, he goes for a walk. A walk that lasts all night.

At first it's just about sex – they don't really talk much. Telemon seems to have an unerring instinct for finding all the sensitive places on Pythagoras's body and then remembering them exactly. He stands behind Pythagoras and kisses his neck slowly and thoroughly, he drags his tongue along his collarbones, he presses careful fingers to Pythagoras's thighs, hips and waist until Pythagoras is trembling like a rabbit in a trap and then, and only then, does he turn Pythagoras around and kiss him properly on the mouth. Pythagoras has never been with anyone who moves so confidently as Telemon – he acts like he knows exactly what every touch does to his victim. It's so easy just to be with him, to surrender himself to Telemon's arms and forget everything else. And Telemon doesn't judge either – Pythagoras can moan and writhe and shout all he wants, and Telemon will keep going. More often than not, Pythagoras shouts Jason's name when he comes, and Telemon simply grins his shark grin and pushes himself deeper into Pythagoras murmuring encouragements until Pythagoras is completely spent.

So for weeks that is all they do – have sex. It's always plentiful, and always passionate, and Pythagoras always shouts Jason's name at the end. Then, one night, instead of falling asleep, they end up discussing – of all things – Aristotle's  _Poetics_ , which inevitably leads to a discussion of Plato, and the next thing Pythagoras knows it's morning and they've been sitting up talking all night.

By tacit agreement, this becomes a regular thing. After the sex, when they're sated, they light new candles and sometimes end up talking through the rest of the night. They talk about all sorts of topics – Telemon was educated in a princely manner, plus he's seen a lot more of the world than Pythagoras has, so he is just about as clever as Pythagoras in a lot of ways. He seems to appreciate Pythagoras's opinion on matters much more than his own, though. The man loves his hypothetical plans, and even more than that, he loves picking Pythagoras's brains about them.

One night Telemon brings with him an old board game from Aegina and they end up playing it, lying the wrong way on the bed with only a sheet protecting their naked bodies from the cold night air. The candlelight is soft around them and even though it's just a shade too intimate a setting, Pythagoras can't deny that he's enjoying himself.

Telemon starts quizzing Pythagoras in the middle of the game.

“Imagine you were the king of a country,” he says, “And you have an army attacking a town of yours. If you send out your army to defend the town, your army will be beaten and then the enemy will be able to attack your undefended city. But if you don't send out your army, the town will be sacked and everyone in it will die. Which do you choose?”

Pythagoras is frowning down at the game and doesn't answer straight away. “My head would say let the town be sacked,” he replies at last. “The city holds more people, so it needs to be defended. You have to sacrifice a few to save many.”

He looks up to find Telemon watching him. “What?”

“That's what your head says,” Telemon says, moving his piece without looking. “What does your heart say?”

Pythagoras glances down at the board, smiles and then moves his piece. “My heart says I just won this game.”

Telemon glances down at the board, then laughs. “You distracted me!”

Pythagoras can't help but grin. He props his chin up on his hands. “That's what I'd do to the enemy army as well. Get some of my men to distract them, make them believe my army is approaching and they need to meet them before they reach the town. Then I'd evacuate as many as I could from the town while they were away and get them into my city. Now I've saved more people and I've got more hands prepared to fight when the enemy reaches the city gates. Simple distraction can be more devastating then a full on attack.”

Telemon stares at him, then suddenly he's leaning forward, moving through the sheet and kissing Pythagoras hard on the mouth. “Genius,” he says against his lips. “You are truly a marvel, Pythagoras.”

It's very difficult not to believe Telemon when he says it like that.

* * *

And there's something else as well. The first time Pythagoras accidentally starts talking about triangles, he's halfway through a rant about obtuse angles before he remembers to shut up. He quickly cuts himself off and Telemon raises his head from where it's pillowed on his naked arms, puzzled.

“Why did you stop?” he asks.

“I was being boring,” Pythagoras says. “Jason and Hercules always say my triangle talk could send them to sleep.”

Telemon sits up, dark eyes suddenly intent. “I wasn't bored,” he says. “Continue.”

Hesitantly Pythagoras keeps going, watching Telemon for signs of boredom but the man stays attentive throughout, and when Pythagoras is finished he even asks some questions about his theories to make sure he understood properly. “It's amazing,” he says when Pythagoras asks if he really isn't fed up of hearing about it. “You're creating something that could have a real and lasting impact on the world. Of course I'm interested.”

“The others aren't,” Pythagoras replies, nonplussed.

“Then they're not appreciating you properly,” Telemon replies.

Pythagoras stares at him. Telemon yawns and stretches, swinging a muscled leg lazily over Pythagoras's waist and drawing him closer. “Now,” he says. “Tell me about the hypotenuse again.”

So Pythagoras tells him. And Telemon listens. He listens to it all.

* * *

Some of this can't help but rub off onto Pythagoras, and the next time Hercules and Jason groan in unison when he starts talking about what he discovered that day, he snaps.

“The two of you don't listen to a word I say,” he complains. “I'm talking about something really important here!”

He gets two blanks looks in return, and throws his stylus at them in annoyance. “I'm completely unappreciated,” he says.

There must be something in his face or his voice that tells them he's serious, because the Hercules doesn't make any snide comeback and Jason comes to sit by his desk. “Of course you're appreciated,” he says, and his voice is soft in that way that Pythagoras can never resist. “Honestly, we probably wouldn't have made it through any of our adventures if it weren't for you.”

Pythagoras struggles not to smile at that. Hercules scoffs in the corner. “Well, I don't know about that, I'm sure I'd get us out of any trouble.”

“Hercules, you're the one who gets us _into_ trouble,” Jason retorts, and looks back at Pythagoras. “Believe me, Pythagoras, you're appreciated. And your theorems will be too, I'm absolutely certain of it.”

He says it in a different way to Telemon, as if he  _knows_ , rather than simply believes it. And he's smiling gently at Pythagoras, which just isn't fair. “All right,” Pythagoras says, trying to sound grudging but ending up sounding more cheerful than he meant to.

Hercules stands up and walks over to the kitchen, patting Pythagoras on the shoulder as he goes. “Whatever made you think that in the first place?” he asks.

Pythagoras shrugs. “Nothing,” he says, and goes back to his work.

* * *

Soon there's a problem. No matter how hard Pythagoras tries to hide what he's doing, all the time he spends out of the house does not escape Hercules's attention. Practically deaf, dumb and blind to any danger around them when he most needs to be alert to it, he is sharp as a hawk when it comes to trivial things. “You've got a lover,” he jeers at Pythagoras one morning when he returns from visiting Telemon.

Pythagoras blanches – so obviously that even Jason frowns at him. “Of course I haven't,” he says, but the damage is already done. Hercules grins.

“What's her name, then? Or his,” he adds on reflection. Jason shoots a quick look at Pythagoras at this added bit but says nothing.

“No one,” Pythagoras says, trying not to show how hard his heart is beating. “It's no one.”

“Funny name, 'no one',” Hercules continues to tease. “Never heard that one before.”

“Shut up,” Pythagoras retorts without much heat. He reaches for his bag, turning on his heel. “I'm going to the baths.”

“I'll bet you need it!” Hercules roars, and Pythagoras slams the door closed on his laughter.

It only occurs to him later, when he's soaking in the baths, that Jason didn't laugh throughout the whole ordeal.

* * *

“Whoever they are, sounds like they're doing you good,” Hercules says later when they both catch Pythagoras whistling as he prepares their dinner that night. “They seem to have got rid of that stick up your arse.”

“For the sake of the Gods,” Pythagoras snaps, but Jason is half-grinning at him, so he can't bring himself to get too annoyed.

“I'm sure they're nice, whoever they are,” Jason says when Pythagoras hands him his food, and smiles so hesitantly that suddenly Pythagoras's good mood dispels entirely. He sits down on the stool, stricken. How can he say it? How can he say no, they're not nice, and they're not only not nice but they're our enemy? 

The worst enemy Atlantis has and Pythagoras is sleeping with him.

“Hey,” Jason says, his face suddenly a picture of worry. “Are you all right?”

“What?” Pythagoras is dragged out of his thoughts. “Yes, of course I am. Eat up.”

Jason does, but he doesn't look convinced.

* * *

“Why am I doing this?” Pythagoras asks aloud the next week when they're lying, sweaty and exhausted, in the bed.

Telemon groans. “If you're going to have a crisis, you can leave. I'm enjoying the afterglow.”

Pythagoras sits up. “Why are  _you_ doing this?”

Telemon sighs and twines an arm around Pythagoras's waist to prevent him from actually leaving. “You know why. Because everyone's boring and you're not. I mean, look at you. You act so noble but every week you're here fucking the brains out of Atlantis's self-confessed number one enemy. You're an enigma. I like that.” He sits up and suddenly they're face to face. “And  _you're_ doing this for three reasons. One – you can forget about Jason here, forget all about how much you want him and can't have him, and you can enjoy yourself instead. Two – you're hoping I might reveal my secrets during personal moments, which of course I won't. And three – you're enjoying destroying your rival's marriage, even if it is in secret.”

Pythagoras shuffles away from Telemon, stung. “I'm not trying to destroy Ariadne's marriage. Of course I'm not.”

“Oh please. If that's the case, you won't be expecting this to continue after the wedding day.”

“I'm not,” Pythagoras says, though he hasn't actually thought about that part of it until now. 

Telemon grins his shark grin. “You're still committing adultery either way. I am promised to her. Imagine how much it would hurt her to find out. Imagine how hurt  _Jason_ would be knowing his friend had so upset his true love.”

“Shut up.” Suddenly Pythagoras can't breathe. “Just shut up.”

“Or what?” counters Telemon. “You'll kill me?”

Pythagoras suddenly realises how much danger he's put himself in. Telemon – their biggest enemy – has something over him, he has an advantage over him. He could use it at any time and destroy Pythagoras's friendship with Jason once and for all.

“If you ever say anything – ” he starts, his heart pounding once more, but Telemon snorts.

“Don't be foolish, why would I? It would ruin my chances with Ariadne. No, your secret is safe with me. We're in this together.”

Pythagoras isn't relieved – in fact he's angrier than ever. He should never have come here, he should never have got involved like this. Why did he? He's smarter than this.

He gets out of the bed and starts reaching for his clothes. Telemon sits back and sighs like Pythagoras is being purposefully difficult. “You'll be back,” he says casually.

“No.” Pythagoras pulls on his trousers and struggles with his shirt, his hands shaking with rage. “I won't.”

“You will.” Telemon's voice rings with conviction. “Because we belong together, Pythagoras. We're as smart as each other. We're dangerous together, and you like it. We're the same, you and I.”

Pythagoras reaches for the doorknob. “Enjoy your wedding,” he snaps, and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh dun duuuuuun! Next chapter soon - the wedding!


	4. Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telemon gets married and Pythagoras is foolish.

_“You'll be back,” he says casually._

_“No.” Pythagoras pulls on his trousers and struggles with his shirt, his hands shaking with rage. “I won't.”_

_“You will.” Telemon's voice rings with conviction. “Because we belong together, Pythagoras. We're as smart as each other. We're dangerous together, and you like it. We're the same, you and I.”_

_Pythagoras reaches for the doorknob. “Enjoy your wedding,” he snaps, and leaves._

* * *

 

The week before the wedding is scheduled, an emissary arrives to give Ariadne a letter with the royal stamp of Aegina that lays out Telemon's father's consent to the wedding and apologies for being unable to attend in person. Jason, Pythagoras and Hercules are convinced that the letter is fake and the emissary is in Telemon's pay, but they are unable to find any evidence to support this. A letter or journey to Aegina to discover the truth from Telemon's father would take too long to provide evidence, and Ariadne is eager to get married and secure Aegina as an ally. Jason tries multiple times to get her to see sense, but Telemon has got into her mind – like he got into Pythagoras's – and she won't listen to a thing. The wedding will take place.

It takes everything Pythagoras has not to go back to the tavern in the weeks leading up to the wedding, but he manages it. Ariadne extends her wedding invitation to all three of them, and Jason insists they have to go in order to protect her in case Telemon tries anything. Pythagoras, miserable, digs out his best clothes and goes with them.

The ceremony is brief but perfectly executed and they all have dinner in the palace hall afterwards. The three of them are placed on a table near the newly married couple, who appear as happy as they should be. Jason sits and moons over the immaculately dressed Ariadne and Hercules eats all the food he can lay his hands on. Pythagoras doesn't dare glance over at the wedding table until he has drained two glasses of wine at least, then he allows himself a look.

Telemon looks stunning, of course. He's dressed in the finest Aegina silks, dark blues and purples, and he smiles in clear victory. He's done it, Pythagoras thinks, his hand curling around his wine glass, he's married his enemy. He feels himself fill with rage and something else. Always something else.

Hercules is just roaring about how amazing the quail is when Telemon glances Pythagoras's way and Pythagoras forgets how to breathe. The man's eyes are dark and full of threat, and Pythagoras is - despite himself – thrilled to his very core.

He stands up. Hercules and Jason stare blankly up at him. “Just need to get some air,” he explains and leaves as quickly as he can without actually running out of the room.

The air is cool and refreshing, and he sits on the steps on the palace trying to catch his breath. One look, that was all it took. What is wrong with him?

He hears footsteps behind him and instantly knows who it is. “They'll miss you at the wedding table,” he says without turning around.

A hand catches his arm, dragging him to his feet and hauling him over to the row of huge columns, out of sight of the main square. Before Pythagoras can speak or even catch his breath, he is being pushed up against the column and a familiar mouth is claiming his, dragging at him. Before he knows it, he is digging his hands into Aegina silk and pulling the man closer to him.

They resurface briefly, just to double check that both are happy to continue, then carry on without a word. And when he comes apart, Pythagoras forgets to say Jason's name and says a completely different one instead.

That's how he knows he's truly in trouble.

* * *

Jason comes out to join him on the steps later, when the feast is getting truly rowdy, the married couple have vanished to do their duty and it's so dark the stars are out. Pythagoras has been attempting to count them, to stop himself from thinking, and smiles distantly when Jason appears next to him.

“I think Hercules has eaten an entire pig tonight,” Jason says. He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and Pythagoras knows his mind is on Ariadne. A stab of annoyance hits him. Ariadne made her choice and Jason should be moving on from it. If he could only move on, Pythagoras could...could...

Could mess things up, Pythagoras thinks miserably. That seems to be what he does these days.

He just slept with his Queen's new husband on their _wedding day_. And it's not just messing around anymore, it's turned into something deeper. He said his name.

“Are you all right?” he asks Jason. Jason half shrugs, clearly too depressed to even make something up.

“Maybe we're wrong,” he says. “Maybe Telemon will treat her well, maybe being King of Atlantis by her side is enough for him.”

“I've been thinking,” Pythagoras volunteers, because he can't bear Jason looking so miserable and he doesn't want to think about what he's just done, “If the letter is a fake, the news of their wedding will reach Telemon's father eventually. When he says that Telemon faked the letter, Ariadne won't trust him anymore. He'll be banished from Atlantis, at least.”

Jason pauses, then straightens up. “Do you think so?”

Pythagoras nods. “Unless Telemon thinks up some way to stop his father, and I don't think he will. We just need to wait, Jason.”

Jason goes back to brooding. “He could kill Ariadne by then.”

“We'll look after her.” And Pythagoras moves before he can think twice about it. He curls an arm around Jason's waist, suddenly needing closeness, needing Jason to be near him. He's done such an awful thing, such an awful thing –

To his surprise, Jason acquiesces readily to the hug, putting an arm around Pythagoras's shoulder and pressing his cheek into Pythagoras's hair. “You're a genius,” he mumbles. Pythagoras can feel Jason's breath warm on his neck and closes his eyes, relaxing into the feeling. This is all he wants.

“I don't know what I'd do without you,” Jason says. Pythagoras pauses, feeling Jason stiffen, and then Jason says, “Whoever that person you're with is, they're very lucky.”

His voice sounds strange. Pythagoras pulls back a little and suddenly the truth is on his lips, ready to be spoken. He's going to tell Jason, he's going to tell Jason and then maybe he'll be able to end it, maybe –

“Are we _hugging?_ ” Hercules's voice booms behind them. “Hugging and no one told me?!” And suddenly a large pair of arms is encircling Pythagoras and Jason and they're having the life squeezed out of them.

Pythagoras wriggles and Jason yelps, “You're killing us, you drunken fool!” and then Hercules is laughing and Jason is elbowing him in a half-hearted attempt to escape, and Pythagoras is yelling because Hercules is practically lifting him up off the steps, and they're in a massive tangle of limbs and all three of them are laughing so hard that for a while Pythagoras forgets his troubles entirely.

* * *

A week later a report reaches him that Aegina came under attack from an unknown army. Telemon's father and family were killed in the slaughter.

Telemon is now the King of Aegina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuun! Hope you enjoyed, thanks for all the comments and kudos guys, it's the best :).


	5. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telemon won't let go without a fight, Pythagoras falls deeper and a confession is finally made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a dramatic part! I hope you enjoy :) as always, warning for slight smut, darkness and swearing. Thanks for all the reviews and love people :) x

_A week later a report reaches him that Aegina came under attack from an unknown army. Telemon's father and family were killed in the slaughter._

_Telemon is now the King of Aegina._

* * *

A week after that, Telemon turns up at their door.

It's Jason who answers his knocks and he is so unexpectedly silent with shock that Pythagoras and Hercules are turning around just as Telemon walks into the house. He is dressed in Aegina silk from head to foot and has a gold band encircling his head. He looks every bit a king.

Pythagoras feels himself still.

“Hello,” Telemon says to the house at large, his attitude relaxed and friendly. “How good it is to be back here again! My first night in Atlantis was spent in this house, remember?”

“We remember,” Hercules says gruffly, crossing his arms. “Just as well as we remember that you tried to kill Jason in the Coronation Games.”

Pythagoras can't breathe. He can't seem to get his limbs to work and there's a distant part of him starting to panic that the others might see his reaction. Telemon's gaze sweeps the house, briefly connecting with Pythagoras's. “Still bitter about that?” he asks Hercules. “My apologies, Jason. I was foolish and desperate. I hope that in time you will forgive me.”

Jason nods slightly. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

Telemon's gaze lands on Pythagoras again and suddenly Pythagoras is sure, completely sure, that Telemon is going to tell all. His heart races in panic. Why would he do this now? He'll destroy everything, he –

“I was hoping,” Telemon says, “That Pythagoras would agree to do something for me.”

Pythagoras blinks. Jason and Hercules both glance at him, confused. “Like what?” demands Jason. He sounds like he's two sentences away from getting his sword out and attacking Telemon right in the middle of the room.

Telemon sits on a bench by their table, as comfortable as if he has been staying in their house all his life, and keeps eye contact with Pythagoras. Pythagoras tries not to react, tries not to move. “In the sacking of Aegina, some rare documents and items were unearthed that I would like examined. I hear Pythagoras has skills in that area.”

Hercules scoffs. “Surely Aegina has its own scholars.”

“Indeed it does,” Telemon continues smoothly, briefly glancing away to Hercules and then back to Pythagoras again, eyes darkening. “However, I prefer the more...personal touch.”

Pythagoras is speechless, and even Jason and Hercules seem momentarily lost for words.

“The documents and items are being transported here where they can be safe,” Telemon says. “Aegina has no security at the moment, it needs to be rebuilt before it can hold such valuable items in its vaults. I would be very grateful for the help in examining these finds. Perhaps Pythagoras could visit the palace say, once a week?”

It takes everything for Pythagoras not to let his mouth drop open. All this just so they can continue their ridiculous and frankly ruinous tryst?

“That is, of course,” Telemon continues, staring hard at him, “If Pythagoras agrees.”

Jason and Hercules hesitate, looking over to Pythagoras. Pythagoras glances back at them. The whole thing is madness. He knows he should say no and yet...

“I would be honoured,” he hears himself answer, and is briefly appalled at himself. “I'm sure your documents will be illuminating.”

Telemon grins his shark grin. “I'll contact you next week.” He stands, bows and takes his leave.

They are all left in stunned silence.

“Just what in Hades was that all about?” Hercules splutters at last. “Documents and rare items? Does any of us actually believe that?”

“It must be a trap,” Jason frets. “Why did you say yes, Pythagoras? You should have refused him.”

The same dilemma is going through Pythagoras's head. He can't quite believe the words came out of his mouth. He looks up at Jason and thinks fast. “It could be a trap,” he reasons. “But if it's not, at least it means I'll be close to him. I could spy on him. Maybe we could see what he's plotting against Ariadne.”

As always, the mention of Ariadne shuts Jason up. Hercules rubs his head. “It's still a risk. Maybe he'll use you to spy on us. What if he tries to get information out of you?”

“Then I'll make sure not to say anything stupid, Hercules,” Pythagoras finds himself snapping. “I am a genius, after all.” 

Now it's Hercules's turn to shut up. Jason huffs out a laugh, but he still looks worried. “It could be dangerous,” he says. “I don't want to put you at risk.”

“Not even for Ariadne?” Pythagoras says a little too curtly.

“Not for anything,” Jason retorts.

There is a small, shocked silence. Pythagoras blinks at Jason, who goes red.

“Right,” Hercules says loudly, breaking the silence. “Well, it's Pythagoras's choice. If he wants to go, we can't stop him.” He grins over at Pythagoras. “Honestly, all someone needs to do is mention rare documents and you'd wade into any sort of danger.”

Pythagoras tries to smile back.

* * *

He's so furious that it takes all his self-control not to shout anything until the servant escorts him into the palace study where Telemon is waiting and leaves, shutting the door behind her. Then, and only then, does Pythagoras lose his temper.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Telemon examines him calmly. He looks lordly in his silks and his crown. “I was giving you the chance to say no. You didn't. Now we can continue where we left off. I can hardly go to that tavern anymore, can I, now I'm king of two cities.”

Pythagoras is momentarily shocked out of himself. He wearily goes to a chair and sits down. “I presume you organised the destruction of your city.”

Telemon grins his shark grin. “Of course I did. Pasiphae was finally good for something. I knew my father would turn up and cause trouble if I didn't.”

A hot ball of anger flares in Pythagoras's chest. “You killed your entire family. Your father.”

Telemon's eyes are level and his voice flat when he says, “I took a leaf out of your book, my love. And I'm glad he died.”

He's echoing the same sentiments that he expressed on their first night together, when they were talking about Pythagoras's past. This, more than anything, makes Pythagoras stand up. “I think I've made a terrible mistake. Excuse me.”

“Come now.” Telemon crosses the room suddenly and cuts Pythagoras off, blocking his way to the door. Pythagoras freezes, suddenly alert. Telemon moves closer to him smoothly and Pythagoras's skin prickles with a mixture of warning and want. “You're just going to leave like that?”

“It's for the best,” Pythagoras hisses, but already there's a part of him wavering. Telemon is too close to him and it's as distracting as it has always been.

“Is it?” Telemon takes his arm and Pythagoras doesn't stop him. He doesn't stop him guiding him to a bench close by either. He sits down obediently and puts his head in his hands.

“You can leave,” Telemon says somewhere above him, “But if you do, I don't want you coming back. You make your decision now.”

Pythagoras keeps his face in his hands. He is hyper aware of Telemon's hand sliding from his arm to his collarbone, pinching it lightly and resting there possessively. The warmth seems to spread through Pythagoras's whole body, waking it up once more.

“I wouldn't be a bad king of Atlantis,” Telemon murmurs thoughtfully. “I could be as good as Ariadne. Why couldn't I? It's not like she's a particularly inventive ruler. I could do so much more. Or at least I could,” he hesitates. “If you were by my side.”

Pythagoras feels himself stiffen. He keeps his head down, his expression hidden.

“If you were ruling with me,” Telemon continues, “We could take over this world. You know we could. I've already got one city, one army. With two...well, we could do anything.”

Pythagoras knows he should run. But then he should have run when he met Telemon outside the tavern that first time, he should have run when Telemon approached him after the wedding, he should have run when Telemon came into their house. He has a history of not running away from Telemon when he should.

He sits back, uncurling himself. Telemon is sitting close to him, sunlight is flickering through the windows and the palace around them is quiet. Distantly Pythagoras feels Telemon's lips land gently on his neck. “It can be just like it was before,” he murmurs against Pythagoras's pulse. “You know you like being with me. I know I like being with you. You know we think the same. Would it be so bad, ruling with me?”

Pythagoras has a fleeting vision of what it would be like. Always sitting at Telemon's side...he could have anything he wanted, he could make a difference to the world. Telemon could be just as good a ruler as Ariadne, there's not reason to believe he wouldn't be. And Pythagoras has never had much power, has never had much control over his life or over what he does. Telemon is offering that power and control.

No one has ever appreciated him. Not really. But this would make them sit up and take notice. This would make Jason look away from Ariadne. It would stop Hercules laughing at him. The world would notice him. It would have no choice.

Would it really be so bad?

Pythagoras has done good all his life, and all it has earned him is injuries and trauma. He wants to take control for once.

“Come to bed,” Telemon says against his neck, sensing victory in the sudden thundering of his pulse. “We can talk about it later.”

There's a daybed in a corner of the study. Pythagoras lets himself be led.

* * *

The weekly routine starts again, except this time Hercules and Jason know something about it. Pythagoras spins them the precious documents story, knowing they wouldn't give two hoots about what he is discovering, and they quiz him weekly over whether he's learnt anything about Telemon's plans.

That part is a more than a little annoying, actually. They never ask him about his discoveries over the documents, simply about Telemon's actions, exactly what he has said and done around Pythagoras. There is, of course, nothing to tell. Telemon never confesses anything to Pythagoras.

“We just talk,” he desperately confesses to an exasperated Hercules. “About astronomy and geometry and things like that – he's a very educated man, and it's nice to talk to someone who isn't – ”

He hastily stops himself before he says anything else, but Hercules catches his drift. “Nice to talk to someone who isn't an uneducated slob, is that what you mean?” he asks smoothly.

“No, I didn't – I didn't mean it like that – ”

“So you'd rather talk to a murderer than us,” Jason cuts in, “Great, Pythagoras, good to know – ”

“Well I'm a murderer too in case you'd forgotten,” Pythagoras shoots back and there is a cold silence.

The silence persists all evening.

* * *

For months it continues – Pythagoras goes to Telemon weekly and they talk and have sex, and then he comes home and tells bald-faced lies to his only two friends in the world about what he has been doing with their enemy. He does this week by week, and feels nothing except an oddly twisted satisfaction about the whole thing. He's almost starting to _enjoy_ the whole thing.

And then one evening Jason bursts into the house holding a limp Ariadne in his arms, blood smeared on his face, surrounded by her worried guards.

“Pythagoras, help,” he begs.

Pythagoras and Hercules leap into well practised action, clearing Hercules's bed for her and sorting out herbs and roots that are needed in minutes. Ariadne has been stabbed, but it's a shallow stab though messy, and Pythagoras soon stops the bleeding and stitches the wound neatly. He wraps her up in bandages he sterilised himself and gives her herbs for the pain, then lets her sleep.

It is practically dawn by the time he emerges from the room, all the guards are gone and Jason is pale with worry. “She's well,” Pythagoras says without hesitation. “She should pull through.”

Jason nods, though he is tight-lipped. “How did it happen?” Pythagoras asks.

“She was going through the town with her guards,” Hercules says. “Giving out alms to the poor, you know she does that sometimes. A pack of assassins attacked apparently. Jason was helping the guards at the time, he fended most of them off.”

“They were wearing Aegina silks,” Jason says coldly. “I saw them perfectly clearly. They were Telemon's men.”

Pythagoras is distantly alarmed by the fact that he doesn't feel shocked. “Well, we were fairly confident Telemon would do something like this.”

“Yes, but we should have _known!_ ” Jason shouts and suddenly he is on his feet, and Pythagoras has never seen such anger on his friend's face, not directed at him. “We should have known because you were meant to get information out of Telemon, Pythagoras, that's why you've been spending time with him! What have you been doing with him, if you haven't been getting information? What is the point of you?”

Pythagoras snaps. It's been lurking inside him for a while. “The point of me is to be your friend, Jason! Not your informer! I'm not your spy, and that's all you've been treating me as for months! Well I don't – ”

“You're not even a _good_ spy!” Jason screams. “Ariadne could have died tonight and you should have _known_ so we could have stopped it! We need to know or he's going to kill her, do you understand that? He's going to kill her!”

“ _Good!_ ” Pythagoras shouts, then freezes.

Jason freezes too. “What?” he says.

“I don't, I didn't – ” Pythagoras starts, but Jason is already backing away from him, face as still as if it has been carved in ice.

“You want her dead,” he says.

“No I don't, of course I don't, I didn't mean – ”

“Yes, you did, you want her – ”

“Oh for the sake of the Gods,” Hercules interrupts unexpectedly. “Of course Pythagoras doesn't want Ariadne dead, Jason, he just saved her life. You should be thanking him, not accusing him. And Pythagoras, you need to sort yourself out – you're never like this.”

Jason stares at Pythagoras, and the look on his face is like nothing he's ever seen before. Jason looks like he hates him.

“I need to go and calm down,” Jason says in cold, clipped tones, and immediately marches out of the house.

Pythagoras, shaking, sits down on the bench. Hercules sighs, then moves to sit next to him. “What on earth is going on with you?” he asks. “In all my life, I've never seen you wish ill on anybody.”

“It's nothing,” Pythagoras mutters.

There is a small silence. Hercules shifts on the bench. “There's one thing Jason said that I'd like an answer to as well. What  _are_ you doing with Telemon if you're not getting information?”

And just like that, Pythagoras can't pretend anymore. He feels tears – the first since he started this whole disaster – start to well up inside of him, and he's unable to keep them back. “You know what,” he whispers.

There is a terrible silence. Hercules may be oafish and greedy and a bit mad, but he is not stupid. Not in the ways of the world. He gets it. “It was Telemon,” he says. “The person you're – ”

“Yes.” Pythagoras's voice is so weak that he's momentarily worried for himself.

There's another silence. “That's adultery,” Hercules says at last.

Pythagoras raises his head, stung. “Oh, like you haven't committed it before, Hercules. With the baker's wife and – ”

“I've never committed adultery with my _sworn enemy!_ ” Hercules roars and Pythagoras is shocked into silence again. “And the Queen's husband no less! The one man we know is planning to kill the Queen and you're – How could you be so _stupid?_ You're Pythagoras, you're meant to be cleverer than this! What were you trying to do? You can't tell me you were trying to get information, you've just admitted you failed at that, so what – ”

“He's a murderer!” Pythagoras shouts and suddenly it's all tumbling out of him, all the pain and anger and loss. “He's killed and I've killed and we've done it in cold blood, Hercules, and that's something you will never understand, but he _does_. He's what I deserve, don't you see that? He's what I deserve because I certainly don't deserve – ” His voice fails him. He stares down at his lap, blinded by tears.

After a moment, a warm hand lands on his back. “You're not a murderer,” Hercules says, sounding kinder. “And you didn't kill in cold blood. It was an accident. You used to know that. I think you need to remember it.”

Pythagoras is openly weeping now, he can feel the tears hitting the back of his hands. “Don't tell Jason,” he says. “Please don't, Hercules.”

Hercules stills. Pythagoras looks up at him through tear-fogged eyes. “I've got to tell him,” Hercules says. “Pythagoras, of course I've got to tell him. Why wouldn't...” And then he trails off. “Oh,” he says.

Pythagoras sniffs, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I don't deserve him,” he says.

“Don't be so moronic,” Hercules retorts. “I didn't deserve Medusa, but I got her. Deserving someone has absolutely nothing to do with love. You love who you love.”

“You don't understand.” Pythagoras's sleeves were sodden now, his hands hot and wet. “Telemon _makes sense_ , Hercules. Telemon makes sense to me. He's a murderer and he does terrible things, but those things make sense to me. He does what he feels needs to be done. He calculates everything. He plans it all out. I understand him.”

“Just because you understand him doesn't mean you should be with him,” Hercules replies. “Pythagoras...you need to stop this.”

Pythagoras nods, wiping his eyes. He knows this all, he's always known it, but hearing it come out of the mouth of such an old friend makes it suddenly all the more clear to him. “I will, I just...give me a bit of time, Hercules. I'll end it and you won't even need to tell Jason. Please. He'll hate me.”

“He'll never hate you,” Hercules says. His arm is warm around Pythagoras's shoulder and Pythagoras has never been so glad to have Hercules as his friend, never in his life. Pythagoras understands all the ways of the head, but Hercules knows an awful lot about the heart. 

He lets himself weep into Hercules's shoulder until he is all out of tears.

* * *

Within a week Ariadne is back to full strength again and Pythagoras and Jason escort her back to the palace with a regiment of her guards. She is full of gratitude towards Pythagoras, who feels just about as guilty as possible in the situation, and Jason says nothing to him. They've barely talked since their argument.

Telemon is there at the palace to greet Ariadne. He has been to the house several times during the week, which were very awkward encounters now that Hercules knew the truth and was watching their every move. Now he greets Ariadne with all the gentleness he shows towards her and leads her to her room.

“If you could stay for a while,” he says to Pythagoras. “I would like to show you how grateful I am.”

Pythagoras – hating himself – agrees to stay. Jason decides to make his way back to the house.

Pythagoras is two steps away from the study door when Telemon catches up with him. He takes hold of Pythagoras's arm and Pythagoras steals himself for a fight, but instead Telemon cups his face with both hands and kisses him hard right in the middle of the corridor. Pythagoras doesn't even try to resist, he instantly forgets everything Hercules told him and leans into the kiss.

They break apart. “I thought you'd be furious,” Pythagoras gasps out. “I saved her life.”

“No, you just made me like you more,” Telemon murmurs. “Honestly, Pythagoras, one minute you're having sex with the Queen's murderer and the next you're saving her life. I don't know what you'll do next.”

“Leave you, if I've got any sense,” Pythagoras replies, but that ball of heat and desire is rolling inside of him and all he wants to do is drag Telemon into the study and be dangerous one more time.

“You're so... _unboring_ ,” Telemon says and kisses him again. Pythagoras forgets everything all over again. He drags his hands up Telemon's arms, digging his nails into that Aegina silk and deepening the kiss.

Eventually they make it into the study.


	6. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules does something very stupid and Pythagoras finally snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry it's been so long, I assure you this fic will be completed. It has all been written already so it just needs to be edited and posted :)  
> WARNINGS for this chapter: swearing, violence and full on smut. We're talking SEX here, people (don't pretend you don't like it!). Pythagoras has snapped and it's not pretty...  
> Thank you all for the wonderful kudos and comments, they are the chocolate to my Easter (or something...).

_“No, you just made me like you more,” Telemon murmurs. “Honestly, Pythagoras, one minute you're having sex with the Queen's murderer and the next you're saving her life. I don't know what you'll do next.”_

_“Leave you, if I've got any sense,” Pythagoras replies, but that ball of heat and desire is rolling inside of him and all he wants to do is drag Telemon into the study and be dangerous one more time._

_“You're so...unboring,” Telemon says and kisses him again. Pythagoras forgets everything all over again. He drags his hands up Telemon's arms, digging his nails into that Aegina silk and deepening the kiss._

_Eventually they make it into the study._

 

* * *

Hercules's disappointed look when Pythagoras returns later is enough to shoot his good mood down instantly. The three of them share the most awkward dinner they've ever had, with only Jason and Hercules talking to one another and both of them pretending Pythagoras isn't even there. Pythagoras stares down at his dinner, barely able to eat, and decides it. Enough is enough. Hercules and Jason are the best friends – the _only_ friends, frankly – he has ever had and he's ruining everything with them for...for something that shouldn't have ever happened.

Telemon is not worth this. He is not worth losing them.

* * *

A week later, Telemon sends a servant to fetch Pythagoras for their weekly 'meeting'. Pythagoras, without even looking up from his work, says to the messenger, “Tell him I cannot attend.”

The messenger hesitates, as do Hercules and Jason. People of low birth don't just _refuse_ the King of Atlantis. Pythagoras steels himself and looks up from his work.

“He will understand,” he says. “He won't blame you. Just tell him I can't be there.”

The messenger bows, confused, but obediently leaves.

“Huh,” says Jason. “So you've decided we're better company after all.” They are the first words he's said to Pythagoras in two weeks, and though the words are said gruffly, Pythagoras can hear the potential forgiveness in them. He shoots a crooked, nervous smile at Jason, and though he doesn't get a smile back, he is positive the expression in Jason's eyes is just a fraction warmer.

All he had to do was give up Telemon to have that.

At the thought his stomach unexpectedly twists inside him and he looks quickly back down at his papers to hide his expression. He writes industriously, without a clue about what he's writing, and his body is so numb that he barely feels the sympathetic squeeze Hercules gives his shoulder.

* * *

The numbness lasts. Pythagoras can't understand it. Jason grows more friendly towards him with each day, Ariadne actually comes to visit to thank him for his medical services personally and Hercules acts as though Pythagoras never said anything to him at all. Every week Telemon's messenger comes to Pythagoras and every week he denies him, and that's it. Everything is starting to rattle back into place, his life is becoming just what it was before Telemon arrived to shake it all up, and yet...and yet...

He wakes from dreams where Telemon is biting down on his neck and Pythagoras is crying his name to the ceiling. He misses hours at a time just staring into space, his mind flicking through half memories, vague images of a shark grin, Aegina silk gleaming in the sun, hands on his arms gripping him in place. And nothing can seem to unsettle him anymore. He is numb from head to toe. He's not unhappy but he's not happy either, he's just...nothing. Even Jason's smile barely affects him these days.

He can't understand it.

And then Hercules does something to stir it all up again.

* * *

“He's got himself arrested,” Jason announces when he storms through the door. “The idiot's only gone and got himself arrested!”

Pythagoras, halfway through a scroll, glances up distractedly. “Who?”

“Hercules, of course,” Jason snaps. “He was caught stealing bread. Of all the things to be arrested for!”

Pythagoras frowns and abandons his scroll – this sounds more serious than he first realised. “Surely the Queen will just let him off? After all he's done for her, the work we've done for her...”

“That's just it,” Jason fumes. “She won't. Apparently _Telemon_ convinced her otherwise. She says she can't start showing favouritism towards certain people or the entire concept of justice will die. She's giving Hercules a proper prison sentence.”

The scroll in Pythagoras's hands suddenly drops from his fingers. “Telemon told her to do that?”

“Definitely.” Jason crosses his arms in rage. “I know Ariadne, she'd never do this to someone whom she owed so much unless she'd been convinced otherwise. That evil bastard has got inside her head, the complete – ”

Pythagoras stands up. Jason blinks at him, cutting off his own rant. “Where are you going?”

“To get Hercules released,” says Pythagoras, and leaves.

* * *

He marches straight into the palace, corners the first servant he sees and orders him to take him to Telemon. Telemon is in the throne room, surrounded by advisers and politicians, but he stops talking altogether when Pythagoras is shown in. Normally a room full of officials would make Pythagoras nervous, but he's so angry – and so thrilled about being angry after spending so long feeling nothing but indifference – that he barely remembers to keep his manners.

“I would talk to you in private,” he says directly to Telemon.

A few mouths drop open at this – though Pythagoras is known for being one of the Queen's men and, apparently, an occasional advisor to Telemon, no one of his birth would dare speak to a King this way. But here he is.

Telemon doesn't seem upset. He never does. Instead he half smiles and nods to a nearby servant. “Take Pythagoras to the study. I will see him in a minute.”

Pythagoras – fuming and loving it – is duly taken to the study. It's just the same as when he last left it, with a number of tables that have never been sat at, valuable scrolls that have never been read, rare items that have never been looked at and the old day bed in a corner that has seen far too much action. He paces the room furiously and waits.

It's barely ten minutes before Telemon enters, a proper grin uncurling on his face. “What a lovely surprise,” he says smoothly. “After no word for weeks – ”

“Save it,” Pythagoras interrupts. “I want you to release Hercules.”

Telemon raises an eyebrow. “Hercules committed a crime. Surely you're not asking me to bend the law for a criminal?”

“Hercules has saved Ariadne's life multiple times,” Pythagoras snaps back. “He's risked his own life for the city a million times over. The Queen and the city owe him. He does stupid things, but he is not an evil man. That much is as clear as day. There are better ways to punish him for his crime – imprisonment is not one of them.”

Telemon sighs. “He was caught in the act, Pythagoras. And if we start letting some people off some crimes, where does it end? Ariadne understands that.”

The rage that Pythagoras has been trying to hold back finally breaks its banks. He can feel it filling him up – that old fiery mix of rage and desire that he has always felt in Telemon's presence – and for the first time he embraces it. He doesn't give into it, like he has all those times before, no, there is no surrendering here. Instead he meets the feeling face to face, like an equal, and takes hold of it. He steps towards Telemon. “I know why you're doing this.”

He can see a moment where Telemon is unsure of what to do, then he gives up the pretence altogether and his blank façade falls in on itself completely. “You kept refusing my invites,” he snaps.

“I was at liberty to do so,” Pythagoras counters. “And you are not to take it out on my friends.”

“Oh, your _friends_ ,” Telemon snarls. “Your precious fucking _friends_. Fuck your friends, I will do what I like to them. I control you, I rule over you, I _own_ you – ”

Pythagoras attacks. He takes hold of two handfuls of Aegina silk, hauls Telemon towards him and forces his head down to meet Pythagoras's, capturing his mouth in a blazing kiss. He bites Telemon's lips, thrusts his tongue inside his mouth, he twines a hand into Telemon's hair and pulls hard, forcing Telemon closer. Telemon weakens in seconds, clutching at Pythagoras's waist desperately, helpless fingers digging into his back, and the rage inside Pythagoras roars in triumph.

He breaks away, pulling at Telemon's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “I'll show you who owns who,” he breathes. His voice is dark and rough and totally unlike his own, and he loves it, he loves it all.

When he shoves Telemon over to the day bed, Telemon does so willingly. He does everything willingly – he removes his Aegina silks willingly, he lets his hands be forced above his head willingly, and when Pythagoras finally allows him his release, he screams Pythagoras's name so loudly it's a wonder the whole palace doesn't hear it.

* * *

Directly afterwards, when Pythagoras is still straddling Telemon and Telemon is still inside him and everything is still breathless and hot and shaky, Telemon gasps, “Please rule by my side.”

“Shut up,” Pythagoras says. His forehead is pressed against Telemon's, their hot breaths mingling, and even though he came just a moment ago, Pythagoras can feel desire unfurling in his stomach again.

Telemon groans as though he knows this, and twists his head, searching for Pythagoras's lips. Pythagoras allows him a kiss, tasting blood where he bit down especially hard. He likes the taste – it tastes like victory.

“Think about it,” Telemon groans. “Think about it seriously. We could rule as well as Ariadne. We could be better. All she needs to do is vanish, and we could be in charge. We could have everything, Pythagoras, Gods, we could have everything.”

Pythagoras briefly imagines it – a vast army, two cities worth of armies, with two merciless geniuses at the helm. They could take over countries. They could trample everything down and make it theirs. They could do it so easily.

The desire, the fury, it screams inside him in approval. It would be so _easy._

“Please,” Telemon babbles beneath him. “Please. Gods, Pythagoras, please.”

Pythagoras bites Telemon's lip again just where he bit before, enjoying the coppery blood, the way Telemon half winces, half writhes against him. “Release Hercules,” he murmurs, dragging bloody lips over Telemon's neck.

“Dear Gods,” Telemon half laughs, voice shaky. “For what you just did, I'd release a whole prison full of the idiots. Consider him a free man.”

Pythagoras kisses him furiously, forcing Telemon to taste his own blood, and feels Telemon grow hard again inside him. He closes his eyes and tackles the darkness full on.

* * *

By the time Hercules is duly released, it is dark. They begin walking home, but they are barely two streets away from the palace when Hercules stops him. “What did you do?” he snaps. “What did Telemon make you do for my release?”

Pythagoras laughs. He still doesn't have his old voice back yet – even his laugh is sharp and bitter. “It's more what  _I_ made him do,” he says.

Hercules briefly closes his eyes. “Spare me the details. Pythagoras, you shouldn't have. You were denying him, you were doing well, everything was going back to normal.”

“Yes, and then you were moronic enough to steal some bread and get caught for it,” Pythagoras snaps. “This is your doing, Hercules. This is entirely _your fault_.”

Hercules recoils. Pythagoras turns on his heel and starts to walk on, but Hercules speaks again. “I'll be more careful, I swear. Just promise me you won't go back to him again.”

Pythagoras grinds to a halt. Then he turns. The rage is back, the fury is back. “Why should I?” he shouts. “Why I should I refuse myself what I want? Why is it always  _me_ having to deny myself? What do I get out of it? Nothing! Jason's still head over heels in love with Ariadne! The only thing I got out of not having what I want is that he  _deigned_ to speak to me again. Well I'm sick of it! I'm sick of it and I'm sick of him! I'm going to have what I want for once!”

“Oh, and you're going to go back and tell him that, are you?” Hercules roars back. “Go on then, march in there and tell him what you've been up to, I dare you!”

Pythagoras feels his hands clenching into fists, but he can't reply. Of course he's not going to tell Jason. He  _can't_ .

Hercules huffs in victory. “I knew you wouldn't. You talk of taking what you want, but you're still too cowardly to let everyone know of it. It's just a dirty little secret, isn't it Pythagoras? Just a dirty secret that only you and I know about!”

Pythagoras fixes him with a glare. “If you ever tell anyone,” he hisses. “I swear, Hercules, I will make you regret it.”

Hercules stares at him. “Are you  _threatening_ me?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Pythagoras shouts.

There is an awful silence. Hercules stares at Pythagoras as if he has never seen him before. Pythagoras suddenly remembers years of friendship, of jokes and adventures building up a rock solid trust between them - a deep trust that not even Jason could share because it was  _them_ and it was  _their_ _history_ \- and realises he's almost shattered the whole thing with one word.

“No,” he retracts quickly. “No, I'm not – I'm not threatening you. I'm sorry.”

Hercules shakes his head, that terrible look still all over his face. “What are you becoming?” he breathes.

Guilt passes over Pythagoras – so strong that it almost wipes out the hot ball of rage inside him altogether. He shakes his head, suddenly exhausted. “Can we please just go home and forget this ever happened?” he asks.

“That depends. Are you going to tell Jason?” Hercules retorts.

Pythagoras shakes his head again. That's all he can do. He's not going to tell Jason, he's never going to tell Jason, he could never bear to face that, and if that means Hercules is going to tell him instead...well...Pythagoras is too tired to combat that now.

Hercules pauses, then sighs. “Well, I won't tell him either.”

Pythagoras stares at him in shock. Hercules shrugs. “Come on, lad, you're such a mess. It would be one heartless person who could make this whole thing worse for you.”

Pythagoras rubs his face with his hands. Hercules has just been so good to him, after he was so terrible to him, and yet all he can think of is two armies, two merciless geniuses at the fore, countries to be conquered...

“Let's go home,” he says.

They go home. A frantic Jason is overjoyed to see Hercules, and bestows a great wide smile on Pythagoras, the likes of which Pythagoras hasn't seen in a long time, but not even that is enough to drag Pythagoras out of the depths he's sunk himself into. He simply nods, says nothing, and closes himself into his room.

He lies on his bed and all night he thinks about marauding armies and Telemon's blood in his mouth and that great rolling ball of heat inside him, constantly inside him. He's suddenly terrified that he's gone somewhere he can never return.

Finally, when dawn is just starting to threaten on the horizon and its obvious that sleep will never come, Pythagoras heaves himself out of bed and into the living area to pace a bit. Jason is fast asleep, curled up into his blankets in his characteristic fashion, his face peaking out of the top. He looks so young when he's asleep, and so innocent. He looks a millions miles away from where Pythagoras is now.

Before he can really think about what he's doing, Pythagoras is sitting himself down on the floor next to Jason's bed. He watches Jason as he sleeps. The impending dawn flickers through the windows, painting everything in a silvery sheen, and Pythagoras watches as the edges of Jason's curls glow from cold silver to warm gold, as his face gradually gains colour in the sunlight, and then finally he sleeps.

* * *

He wakes not much later, and Jason is awake, hazel eyes watching him thoughtfully. He is still curled up in his blankets, hasn't moved from his sleeping position at all – it is as if he opened his eyes, saw Pythagoras lying there and then couldn't move an inch. “Hello,” he mumbles.

Pythagoras blinks. The room is bright with morning sunlight and there are the sounds of Atlantis waking up echoing around them. “Hello,” he finds himself whispering.

Jason smiles, a crooked, sleepy smile. “You don't look very comfortable down there.”

Pythagoras considers himself. The floor is hard and his back hurts and his head aches, but the world around him is golden and he is looking into Jason's hazel eyes. “I feel comfortable,” he says.

Jason smiles again, a soft smile, and then the house echoes with the sounds of a waking Hercules and their peace is disturbed, and when Pythagoras looks away from Jason's warm brightness, he feels the darkness stir inside him again.


	7. Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telemon brings things to a head and there is more than one ending...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last chapter! Sorry it took forever to post, but hopefully it will be worth the wait!  
> It's a nice long one and even has an epilogue for y'all, so do enjoy...thank you so much for the thorough and lovely comments I've been receiving - and for all the kudos as well! I hope you like the end!  
> Warnings for violence, swearing, sex etc...

_Jason smiles again, a soft smile, and then the house echoes with the sounds of a waking Hercules and their peace is disturbed, and when Pythagoras looks away from Jason's warm brightness, he feels the darkness stir inside him again._

* * *

Pythagoras can't even pretend to act like himself anymore. He sits around the house barely listening to the other two, always half there and half deep inside his own mind, and he can't even bring himself to care when they shoot him worried looks from time to time. And instead of waiting for a messenger to summon him to Telemon, Pythagoras finds himself drifting to the palace several times a week, interrupting whatever is happening at the time. Whatever it is, Telemon always abandons it completely. He spreads a rumour around that he and Pythagoras are working on translating an important piece of old Aegina lore so that no one will disturb them or wonder at Pythagoras's constant visitations, and they carry on as normal. It's the only time Pythagoras feels free, when he's holding that darkness in his hands, clutching at it as he clutches at Telemon, and he makes every minute he spends with Telemon worth the sacrifice he's made.

One day Telemon starts brainstorming ways to kill Ariadne with Pythagoras and Pythagoras, listless and no longer caring, finds himself joining in. They come up with several very, very good plans, and it's clear Telemon is considering them seriously.

And then one day Jason destroys everything.

* * *

Telemon and Pythagoras are kissing goodbye in the corridor outside the study. It's rare that they do it, because it would only take one observant servant to cause trouble, but it's been a good afternoon, they're intoxicated on their own darkness, and Telemon is being particularly insistent and worshipful, so Pythagoras allows it. He allows Telemon to push him into the corridor wall, wraps his arms around the man's neck and deepens the kiss, pushing into his body with the promise of maybe forgetting the whole goodbye thing and going back into the study for another round...

And then a voice nearby says, “Sorry to interrupt.”

It is a horribly familiar voice.

Pythagoras jerks away from Telemon and looks down the corridor. Jason is watching them, a carefully blank look on his face.

“Jason,” Pythagoras breathes.

Jason shakes his head – simply shakes his head – and walks away.

Everything goes briefly white, like he's in shock. Pythagoras hears himself gasp, and then repeat, “ _Jason._ ”

Distantly he is aware of Telemon letting out a little laugh to himself. He glances at him and the man is actually crossing his arms, a small smirk on his face. “And thus the distraction worked,” he says.

Pythagoras takes off after Jason.

* * *

He catches up with him on the way to the Queen's rooms, because of course Jason is going to tell Ariadne, for the sake of the Gods  _Pythagoras_ should have told Ariadne everything before the wedding, she might have listened to him and they wouldn't be in this mess now, he wouldn't be in this darkness, but now – 

“Jason, wait!” he shouts and launches himself down the corridor after the retreating man, grabbing hold of Jason's arm – 

And Jason whirls around and punches Pythagoras square on the jaw.

Pythagoras stumbles in shock, clutching at his face, but at least Jason stops. He turns around to face Pythagoras fully, and the fury in his face is terrifying to see. Pythagoras holds a hand to his face, feels the warmth burn through his palm, and it's like the punch just hit him back into his senses. Jason's furious face shakes him into reality once more.

“You were working with him all along,” Jason says.

“What?” Pythagoras's jaw aches, but he forces himself to speak. “No – no, Jason you've got it wrong – ”

Jason laughs, a short bark of laughter. “Wrong? Tell me, Pythagoras, what part have I got wrong exactly? The part where you're sleeping with the man who is trying to kill our Queen – the one woman we're meant to _protect?_ Or the part where you told me you wanted her dead – ”

“I didn't say that!” Pythagoras shouts. “Jason – you don't understand – ”

“It makes so much sense,” Jason spits. “I should have seen it before. All those meetings with him, all along – oh my _God_ , no, it was before that, wasn't it? It was even before the wedding! That person you were seeing – it was _him_. My God, Pythagoras, _him?_ And you – you're a – ”

He freezes, face suddenly dropping, and this new expression on him is a hundred times more painful than the last one was. “You're a traitor,” he says weakly. “You, Pythagoras?” His breath audibly catches in his chest. “I'd never have believed that of you.”

Pythagoras is trembling. The rage is gone, the darkness dissipated, and all that's left is a weak, shaking creature, and a guilt that is building inside him with every second. He panics.

“P – please, Jason, I swear I am not working with Telemon, I just – we're just – ” He's losing it, _losing it_ – it's all coming out, all of it and he just needs – _he needs_ – 

“Just _what?_ ” Jason yells. “Just what, Pythagoras? If you're not conspiring him, what are you doing having sex with him? Give me one good reason why you're doing this!”

“Because of this!” Pythagoras shouts and he loses it completely. Before he knows what he's doing, he's grabbed hold of Jason's collar and has dragged Jason's mouth onto his.

Time stops. His rage vanishes. His panic vanishes. The kiss softens.

Kissing Jason is nothing like kissing Telemon. Kissing Telemon is full of hatred and passion and a shared darkness. Kissing Jason is like coming home, it's like the dawn breaking over him after a very long, dark night. Pythagoras forgets himself in bliss.

Slowly – reluctantly – they part.

“I love you,” Pythagoras says, almost against Jason's lips, and there it is, he's said it, it's out in the world at last. “I love you, Jason.”

There is a long silence, then Jason lets out a bitter laugh. “You've got a funny way of showing it,” he murmurs. His voice still vibrates with anger. “Sleeping with the enemy and all.”

Pythagoras forces himself to take a step away. Jason looks like he's in shock and Pythagoras doesn't feel any better. “Things got confused,” he says. “It started because I just – I needed – and then it continued, it grew into something so deep and awful and I – I don't really know what I was doing.”

“You were doing it all wrong,” Jason says, and there's a bit more anger building up in his voice. “You were doing everything wrong. You should have just told me.” He pauses. “That night, the one during the heatwave, when we were talking by the window...you left to go to him, didn't you?”

He remembers it, the silver of the moon making Jason's skin glow like a god's, and his need, and his fears...“Yes,” Pythagoras whispers.

Jason shakes his head gently. “You should have just stayed with me, Pythagoras.”

Pythagoras can't talk about this, he can't talk about the terrible choices he's made, he can't think on them because if he does, he will go insane. “Are you going to tell Ariadne?” he asks.

Jason sighs. “She won't believe me,” he says, then corrects himself. “No, it's not that. My word against Telemon's...she'll  _choose_ not to believe me. The alliance with Aegina is more important to her than this. I'll tell her...but nothing will change.”

Pythagoras bites his lip so hard he can taste blood, and it reminds him of Telemon. “We have to get rid of him.”

Jason raises his eyebrows. “Are you seriously saying this to me?”

Pythagoras can't meet his eyes, but he's feeling more stable than he has been for a while. The bright white shock of Jason discovering all has spun him around, landed him back on Ariadne's side. “He's planning her death,” he confesses. “He's going to take over, and he could. It'll be easy. We have to get rid of him.”

Jason steps towards Pythagoras, and there is danger in that step, danger like in Telemon's step. “I'll get rid of him, all right,” he says, and his voice is dark with anger. “I'm going to get him banished if it's the last thing I do, and when he goes you can go with him.”

Somehow it's this cold sentence that gives Pythagoras the courage to meet Jason's eyes. “Is that what you'd want?”

Jason watches him for a long moment. “I don't know,” he says at last.

Pythagoras drops his gaze. Jason stays staring for a moment longer, then turns and walks away. He walks softly, but Pythagoras can hear every retreating footstep and it reverberates in his shocked, stilled mind. Jason is walking away from him.

So he does what he does best. He starts to plan.

* * *

Telemon isn't the only one that can plan. Pythagoras goes to the library, finds the right scroll, memorises it, then spends the whole day collecting just the herbs he needs from the forest and surrounding countryside.

He goes home. Both Jason and Hercules studiously ignore him and he does the same to them. Instead he crushes the herbs together until it's a delicate powder, then bottles it and sets off for the palace.

As expected, he is let in without question. Word has spread fast and everyone now knows what he is. He gets a variety of nasty looks and some servants even spit at his feet, but nevertheless he is taken to Telemon's bedchamber.

Telemon is sitting at his window and looks completely astonished to see him there. “I thought you'd be wailing at Jason all night,” he says.

Pythagoras shrugs. “Maybe I've already made my choice.”

Telemon stares at him, then slowly gets off the window. “I also thought you'd be more angry with me. You know I planned the whole encounter with Jason.”

Pythagoras nods. He worked this out when he was gathering herbs. “You distracted me in the corridor just when you knew Jason was going to be in the palace. A faked note from Ariadne requesting his presence, I imagine?”

Telemon inclines his head. “You can take responsibility for the idea. It was all your talk about distraction that made me think of it.  _Simple distraction can be more devastating than a full on attack_ . That's what you said. Well you were right.”

Pythagoras nods. “I still don't know why you did it in the first place, though.”

Telemon shrugs. “I knew you wouldn't tell him, but I also knew you were finally mine. I thought I'd do the job for you and then we'd be able to get on with our future. Much cleaner than having him hanging around, don't you agree?”

Pythagoras remembers two armies, two merciless geniuses...“Of course I agree,” he says. “That's why I'm here.”

Telemon grins. “Ariadne banished me from her bedchamber. Bit of a relief really, I was getting sick of her. She's so _boring_. Anyway, I managed to convince her that it was nothing more than a silly tryst and that neither you nor I posed her any threat. She still wants the alliance with Aegina, so she let it go. I'm being watched though.”

Pythagoras half smiles. “I don't believe that would stop you.”

Telemon grins his shark grin. “It won't. She'll be dead soon.”

“You could even pin the blame on me,” Pythagoras suggests. “I have a motive now and everything.”

“Tempting,” Telemon nods, the predatory look back in his eyes, “But I think I like you with me.”

Pythagoras smiles and turns to the bottle of wine on the table. “Wine?”

“Lovely,” replies Telemon.

Pythagoras pours the glasses and hands one to Telemon. “Relax, it's not poisoned,” he says, echoing Telemon's words to him the first time they had met in the tavern. Telemon laughs out loud, draining the glass in one gulp and leaning forward to kiss him.

For once Pythagoras doesn't forget himself when their lips touch. He is too busy counting down the seconds.

It takes a little longer than expected, but when it works, it works quickly. Telemon immediately goes limp in Pythagoras's hold, his legs refusing to obey him. Pythagoras quickly sits him down on a chair nearby and checks his pupils. They are dilating.

“Wha' – wha' 've you done t'me?” Telemon slurs, battling to stay conscious.

“Just slipped you something to lower your inhibitions a bit,” Pythagoras murmurs. “You'll be fine. You won't even remember this tomorrow. But you have to stay awake, all right?”

“A' righ',” mumbles Telemon. He is smiling dreamily, his head lolling. 

“I've got some questions for you,” Pythagoras says. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” Telemon murmurs. “Yer pretty.”

“Nice to know. What I'm more interested in is your plan to kill Ariadne. Can you tell me that?”

“Sur',” Telemon slurs. “'S the day after tomorrow. Got a' assassin comin' through the window a' night, after erryone's asleep. 'S goin' t' slip a poison in 'er ear, makes her death look natural. Goin' t' kill the assassin m'self a' our meeting place in a few days. 'S that a' righ'?”

“It's perfect,” Pythagoras says soothingly. “Genius, as I expected.”

Telemon grins at the compliment. “There's somethin' else,” he mumbles. “Somethin' I wan' t' tell you.”

Pythagoras sinks to his knees. “What is it?”

Telemon attempts to focus his gaze on Pythagoras. “I love him,” he slurs. “I love Pythagoras. Don' tell him, will yer?”

A lump forms in Pythagoras's throat. “All right,” he says. “I promise I won't.”

Telemon nods, his head too heavy for him. Pythagoras, with some difficulty, lifts him off the chair and onto the bed. “You can sleep now,” he says.

“Than's,” Telemon says seriously, and immediately passes out.

Quietly, Pythagoras extinguishes the candles and slips into bed next to Telemon for the last time. He doesn't fall asleep for a long time.

* * *

When he wakes up, it is several hours past dawn and Telemon is rubbing his head in pain. “I think I drank too much last night,” he says. “I barely remember a thing. Did I say anything stupid?”

“You, stupid?” Pythagoras asks. “No. You weren't that drunk. Maybe you're coming down with something.”

Telemon half grimaces, half smiles and turns his face into Pythagoras's neck. “It's too bright. Turn off the sun, will you?”

Pythagoras smiles and runs a hand down the back of his neck. “Not even I'm clever enough to do that. And I'm pretty clever, you know.”

* * *

Jason and Hercules are both in the house when Pythagoras returns, but it doesn't mean they are talking to him. This isn't going to stop him though. Pythagoras marches up to the table, slams the herb bottle on the surface and says, “I don't care what either of you think of me at the moment, but if you know what's good for you, the night of the day after tomorrow you will have guards hiding in Ariadne's bedchamber. An assassin hired by Telemon is going to come in through her window with poison. The contents of this bottle with some wine will make him confess everything.”

Jason and Hercules stare at him.

* * *

On the selected night, Ariadne lies in her bed and around her in the shadows guards wait, bristling with weapons.

Just at the point where everyone else in the palace is asleep, there is a noise and a figure in black creeps through the window and into the room.

The guards grab him in seconds.

* * *

Pythagoras, Jason and Hercules wait outside the dungeons and wait for the results of Ariadne's interview with one very drugged assassin. Eventually she comes out, eyes bright with moisture and face drawn.

“You were right, of course,” she says. “It was Telemon. The assassin not only confessed to that plot but to many others Telemon had made with him.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Jason asks.

Ariadne sighs. “I can't execute him for treason. Telemon is a king in his own right. I will banish him from Atlantis and he can go and rule Aegina. I suspect we will have very favourable alliances with Aegina for years to come, if he knows what's good for him.”

Jason nods, clearly fighting back a smile. Ariadne holds the empty herb bottle out to Pythagoras, who takes it nervously.

“Thank you Pythagoras,” she says softly.

Pythagoras locks eyes with her. “I'm sorry,” he replies, and they both know he's genuine.

* * *

The three of them, along with many other guards, escort Telemon to the borders of Atlantis. It takes several days. Telemon rides like a king during every moment, not like a man in disgrace, and he shows none of his feelings on his face. He and Pythagoras don't talk to each other the whole time, not until they stop at the border. There Telemon pauses, before getting off his horse and waving to Pythagoras.

Both Jason and Hercules hesitate. “Are you sure?” Jason asks. “He's dangerous.”

“He always was,” Pythagoras replies and dismounts.

The two of them walk to the edge of the border, a little away from the rest of the group, and watch each other.

“You could always come with me,” Telemon says. “I would definitely have room in my court for someone as devious as you.”

Pythagoras smiles gently. “Bitterness does not become you.”

Telemon half smiles at this. “Oh well,” he says. “No doubt Jason is ready to leap into my shoes the moment I leave.”

Pythagoras glances over to where Jason and the others are. Hercules is chattering to one of the guards but Jason is looking away, over to the trees beyond, clearly wishing himself somewhere else. “I think I ruined that,” Pythagoras says, trying not to choke on the words. Jason also hasn't spoken to him the whole journey to the border, though Hercules is almost back to his old comfortable level of banter.

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Telemon replies, and there is something in his expression that makes Pythagoras immediately suspicious.

“You've said something to him,” he realises.

“We may have had a brief conversation on the way here,” Telemon says. Pythagoras opens his mouth, but Telemon quickly cuts across. “Don't panic, it was nothing dramatic. I just wanted to make sure you'd be as appreciated by him...as you were by me.”

There is a short pause. Telemon looks away. Pythagoras's rage vanishes.

He decides to say the one thing he was sure he was never going to say. “You said something else that night.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You said you love me.”

Telemon blinks. “Clearly I was talking nonsense.”

Pythagoras laughs. “Clearly,” he says, but he is unable to stop himself from reaching up and trailing soft fingers down the side of Telemon's cheek.

“Come with me,” Telemon says again – almost begs. “You make me better.”

There is still something in Pythagoras that makes him want to agree, makes him want to ride away with Telemon and never look back. If he hadn't met Hercules and Jason, he wonders what would have become of him. “But you were making me worse,” he says.

Telemon nods and smiles, but its a sad smile. “I have no doubt,” he replies. He leans forward, brushes his lips over Pythagoras's cheek one last time, and draws away. “Goodbye,” he says.

Then he gets on his horse, waves a hand and trots over the border without a single glance back.

When Pythagoras turns back to the others, he sees that Jason and Hercules have both dismounted and are walking towards him.

Hercules smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Pythagoras nods. “I think I'll be fine, actually.”

Hercules nods as well, but keeps his hand on Pythagoras's shoulder. Pythagoras glances over at the silent Jason. “Are you glad I didn't go?”

Jason smiles, his old Jason smile that Pythagoras hasn't seen in what feels like weeks. He makes an aborted movement towards Pythagoras, then pauses awkwardly. “Yes,” he says instead. “I am.”

They walk back to the horses together, Hercules's hand still on Pythagoras's shoulder. Jason smiles at Pythagoras and Pythagoras smiles back, but neither of them can seem to find a word to say.

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

They camp that evening in a little thicket of trees, a good distance away from the main road. Everyone is tired out and wants to be home, so there isn't much conversation and what there is is muted. Pythagoras sits a little way from the fire as one of the guards cooks up their evening meal and listens to the sounds of the forest settling down to sleep. It's peaceful and tranquil, and Pythagoras can feel that heavy weight on his shoulders that has been there since he first met Telemon slowly slipping away. He feels a bit more like his old self again. He leans back against a tree trunk, closes his eyes and relaxes.

Barely five minutes have passed before he's startled back into wakefulness by the sound of someone sitting down next to him. He glances over and is immediately caught by a pair of very familiar hazel eyes.

“Hello,” says Jason. His voice is soft, as soft as his footsteps must have been, because Pythagoras hadn't heard him approach. “How are you feeling?”

To be honest, Pythagoras is getting sick of people asking him that like he's a bereft and abandoned lover, but he tries to let none of this show on his face. “I'm all right,” he says. “I think...” He hesitates and continues. “I think coming here, seeing him off, it was good for me.”

Jason nods. He's smiling but Pythagoras notes that his eyes are still worried. “Um,” he mumbles, and clears his throat. “The thing is, Telemon and I had a chat on the way here.”

“I know,” Pythagoras says. “He told me.”

“Right.” If anything, Jason looks more awkward now. “It's just, I...I mean, I...” He stops and laughs shortly, hands flying to his head. “Christ, I'm terrible at this!”

Pythagoras has no idea what a 'christ' is, but the sentiment gets through. He smiles awkwardly down at his knees. “Me too.” He pauses and then forces himself to glance up at Jason. He lied to this man, to his friend, to the person he loves more than he has ever loved anyone. He lied multiple times, he said terrible things to him. “Jason, I'm so sorry,” he says.

Jason starts, then turns to stare at him. “ _You're_ sorry?” he blurts. “Pythagoras,  _I'm_ the one who should be sorry!”

A flat irritation that Pythagoras had barely recognised inside him lifts slightly at these words. “You?” he asks.

“Of course.” Jason leans forward, gripping hold of one of Pythagoras's hands, and his eyes are shining, his body full of that energy he's always had. “Pythagoras, I have treated you appallingly. Appallingly. And it took my worst enemy to make me realise it!”

Pythagoras opens his mouth without knowing what to say, but thankfully Jason carries on. “I didn't appreciate you,” he says. “Or I did, but I never said it, I never showed it. Pythagoras, you – I always knew you were a genius but I didn't – I didn't  _appreciate_ you. So many times you saved me or Hercules or Ariadne – or – or, well anyone really, and I didn't even  _thank_ you. I should have thanked you. And listened to you when you talk about your silly triangles because they're not silly, Pythagoras, they're more important than you know but I  _do_ know how important they are so I should have said but I didn't, and more important than any of that – more important than your genius or your triangles is your  _heart,_ you're such a kind person and what do I do? I accuse you of plotting to kill someone, what was I thinking, I don't – ”

“Jason,” Pythagoras has to interrupt, “You're rambling.” He leans forward before he can think about it and presses two gentle fingers to Jason's lips. Jason stops talking, mostly out of surprise. 

They stare at each other. Jason's mouth is warm on Pythagoras's fingertips. Pythagoras finds himself admitting everything. “I  _did_ plot to kill someone,” he says. “I plotted to kill Ariadne even though I saved her life. You're not wrong about me. And I'm not kind.”

“You're the kindest man I've ever known,” Jason mumbles against Pythagoras's fingers. It sounds familiar, as if Pythagoras has heard Jason say those exact words before. He's getting a bit distracted by Jason's breath on his skin. He removes his fingers and Jason catches them, linking them with his own. “I don't believe you wanted Ariadne dead at all,” he continues. “Not really.”

Pythagoras hesitates. “I don't really know what I wanted,” he confesses.

Jason smiles slightly, then peeks up at Pythagoras slyly through his eyelashes. “I know what you wanted,” he says. “You wanted me.”

Pythagoras laughs before he can stop himself. “Well yes,” he admits.

Jason grins, his old grin, the sort of grin he had had in the very early days of their relationship. A great spread of a smile, glowing like the sun. An addictive smile. Pythagoras can feel his own lips trembling to return it, but just as they do, Jason leans forward and kisses him.

Kissing Jason is like stepping into a heated pool. Kissing Jason is like waking warm and comfortable in your own bed and knowing that you don't have any responsibilities for the whole day. Kissing Jason makes every one of Pythagoras's muscles relax. He sinks into the kiss the same way he used to sink into Telemon's kiss but also in a completely different way. It's like being bathed in light instead of tumbling into darkness.

It is only when they part briefly that Pythagoras remembers himself. “But you love Ariadne,” he murmurs.

“Wrong,” Jason says against his lips and kisses him again. 

When they part for air after what feels like years, Jason clarifies, “I used to love her. I still care very much for her. But you are...” He hesitates. “But Pythagoras...I don't deserve you.”

“And you think I deserve _you?_ ” Pythagoras says with a short laugh, feeling suddenly bitter about his own foolishness. He sits back and inspects Jason, whose smile has suddenly vanished off his face again. They've both mucked things up so much...maybe too much...Pythagoras gets the distinct feeling that if he isn't very careful, all this potential happiness may disappear as fast as that smile. He casts around for words and remembers, suddenly...

“Hercules once said something to me. He said _deserving someone has absolutely nothing to do with love. You love who you love._ ” He pauses. “Jason, I know what I'm capable of. I know what depths of darkness I can sink to. I know I have that potential. But I also know – well, I also know why I _haven't_ sunk into that darkness.”

He glances up to find Jason staring at him intently. “Why?” he asks.

Pythagoras smiles. “Because of you. Or more accurately, because of you and Hercules. Because you're both so determined to always do the right thing, the good thing. And because I respect both of you and I love both of you.” He finds himself smiling. “Though admittedly in different ways.”

A half smile flickers on Jason's face in answer. He leans down and kisses Pythagoras's fingers that are still interlaced with his. “Do you think we could try?” he murmurs against Pythagoras's wrist and Pythagoras feels his pulse skip in response.

He looks past the foolishness, past Jason's disregard and distrust, past Pythagoras's lies and plotting. He looks past it all. He stares down at Jason's bent head as he presses his lips to Pythagoras's wrist and thinks that he will never love anyone else like he loves this man.

Jason raises his head, hazel eyes hopefully requesting an answer to his question. Pythagoras smiles and gives it.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Choices are the hinges of destiny" - attributed to the actual Pythagoras


End file.
